


Memories Never Fade

by HeartOfTheMirror



Series: Well Shit, What Now? [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, I'm not kidding it's not happy, Lack of control, M/M, Nogitsune Stiles, Past Abuse, Possession, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Threat of Rape, no really, very dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/pseuds/HeartOfTheMirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nogitsune is hungry and Derek is a five course buffet of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Never Fade

Stiles woke to the musty air of morning, cracked sunlight filtering through his crooked blinds. The air in his bedroom was still and tepid, heavy with morning breath. His fingers were still tangled with Derek’s, damp palms clasped together, bodies to hot and too close. It was their only point of contact and even that felt like too much. It was everything Stiles couldn’t handle, this closeness, this inescapable bond that left them each suffocating for breathing the other’s air. Which was all so stupid because he was the one who’d asked Derek to stay.

Derek was still asleep, mouth open, snoring softly, his cheek pressed awkwardly against his forearm. It was weird to see Derek so vulnerable, to feel himself like he’d already been flayed open, like he was invulnerable because nothing more could be done to him, because-

Then there was Derek. Who was more to him that he was willing to admit, than he even understood. It was hormones he tried to tell himself. He’d read about the neurochemical effects of sex, oxytocin and serotonin and all the chemical chains your brain creates to make you believe the person lying next to you is somehow different, might somehow be riding the same primal high as you, might somehow want the same things. 

Stiles had read that article on the neurochemical effects of affection in one of Mrs. McCall’s magazines, hoping to impress Lydia someday.Who the fuck knew when that might come up, but even now he felt like she might appreciate it. 

She understood this better than anyone, better than Scott with his unbridled puppy optimism, reinforced by steel will and wolf teeth, better than his dad who would still be utterly devoted to his mom if she’d lived. Only Lydia seemed to get that sometimes it didn’t matter how you felt about someone or how they felt about you. The pieces didn’t fit and you wanted different things, needed to move in different directions that strained at that delicate chain of neurochemistry with distance and time until it broke, crumbled into something blacker than mountain ash and only again gleamed under the weight of a nostalgic eye.

People like him and Lydia, they knew these things, the futility of _feelings_ too ephemeral and transient so rely upon, to trust yourself to. Stiles couldn’t live his life in constant freefall the way Scott did, always willing to throw himself backwards and trust the crowd to catch him. There are no guarantees. The saddest thing about betrayal, after all, was that it never came from your enemies.

Sometimes the softest touch was the most cruel. What could Stiles do if he spewed up all this nonsense words and woke Derek and confessed that Derek had him in chains? That Stiles was bound to him now, by fickle, unreasonable neurochemistry? That sad look, the pitying regret, the slow breath as Derek said his name, trying to find some words that no one has ever found, words that don’t hurt when he says he doesn’t feel the same. 

Because Stiles knew, _knew_ , that Derek didn’t.

Suddenly Derek’s sour heavy morning breath was too much, his presence in Stiles’s bed to surreal. He wanted to be alone, he did, but alone-ness ached like a loose tooth, the kind of ache Stiles couldn’t help prodding at, even as it made the aching worse. He couldn’t force away this odd off kilter feeling that tormented him like a tilt-a-whirl full of pins and needles. Something was wrong. When he slipped out and sneaked into the bathroom he was amazed that Derek didn’t wake up.

...

When Derek woke up Stiles was straddling his hips.

Stiles saw himself pinning Derek to the bed, as though through a foggy glass or perhaps a dream. His lips twisted into a painful smile a half a centimeter from Derek’s lips.His fingers were gripping Derek’s wrists bruisingly tight, the rough fabric of Derek’s designer jeans creating friction against his, the intense heat from his werewolf metabolism radiating into Stiles’s thighs making his whole body too warm. It wasn’t his body anymore though.

“You like him, don’t you?” The voice was smug, predatory, curling around Derek’s ear, turing Stiles’s chestnut voice to something harsh and navy blue.  
Nogitsune. Stiles’s earthy whiskey and molten gold eyes were flat, cold, and depthless brown, darker than they had any right to be. He was stronger than Derek, pinned him down easily as Derek wolfed out and roared, surging up against him. His wrists and hips didn’t budge, he had no leverage.

“Oooh,” The nogitsune moaned, throwing back his head so that Stiles’s long pale neck was on display. “Do that again.” The Nogitsune bit his lip playfully and ground himself down into Derek.

“Sleeping in the same bed as the weak, helpless little human… you really do like him, don’t you? Or maybe you’re just so lonely you’ll settle for anyone. Just beginning the next passerby to slip their leash around your throat and take you home, aren’t you Derek? You’ll settle for anyone. Killer. Hunter. Darach. Pathetic,” the nogitsune whispered against Derek’s cheek, leaning down to bite none too gently between Derek’s shoulder and his neck, moving away before Derek could sink his teeth in in return. 

“Oh but we wouldn’t want that, would we? Damaging fragile little Stiles? I doubt he’d be quick to forgive you for scarring this pretty face. I don’t see why you’re so upset, puppy. I’m not doing anything plenty of people haven’t done before. Holding you down, taking what I want… I thought you liked that kind of thing? Not into it? Is this body not as appealing as Kate's? As Jennifer's? Not willing to sacrifice people's lives for this piece of ass? Ah, well. Your opinion never much mattered anyway.” The Nogitsune rubbed himself along Derek’s crotch rhythmically, Derek fought with every ounce of his willpower not to turn his head to the side or close his eyes, not to show any sign of submission in hopes of making it stop. 

“Oooh, look at that,” the Nogitsune purred, licking a satisfied stripe along Derek’s neck. “A little friction in the right place and suddenly you’re ready for it.” Derek felt the same flood through him, not an unfamiliar feeling. He didn’t want this, not for him and not for Stiles but it was just a physical reaction, he couldn’t help it, he _couldn’t_.

“I could turn you over on your knees,” the Nogitsune whispered against his ear. “Fuck you until you screamed, tears running down your cheeks, you begged me to end it but you didn’t even know what you were saying. So hot and hard for me, hanging between your legs, bobbing each time I thrust into you, dripping precome all over Stiles’s nice clean sheets, ready to go off at the slightest touch. 

“But I wouldn’t touch you anymore than I had to to hold you down, your arms twisted up behind your back, face pressed into the mattress, jeans tangled around your knees. I wouldn’t touch you because that would have been a gift and I would have already given you a gift. Stiles’s virginity. ” The Nogitsune smiled as Derek’s horror and revulsion showed on his face, struggling futilely to escape the hold the Nogitsune had on him.

“Looks like our time is up, precious,” the Nogitsune said, voice unusually strained. “But I’ve had so much fun. You’re so delicious. I’ll definitely be seeing you again soon.”

... 

“Stiles?” Derek asked. “Stiles!” Stiles woke up pinning Derek to his bed. Everything was a blur. He’d went to the bathroom, feeling so strange, wanting it to stop, wanting to go back to sleep and escape it all and then...

“What did I… what?” Stiles asked aloud, throwing himself off Derek. He held up his hands, each with a perfect number of long, trembling, fingers looking as if he’d never seen them before, as if they belonged to someone else…

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Kudos and comments are always welcomed and appreciated! <3


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